


Getting a Clue

by foolishgames



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 22:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolishgames/pseuds/foolishgames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Um. Pranks, silliness, friendship, running, awkwardness, clumsy seduction, sex, Jared's truck. Chad and Jensen just kind of fall into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting a Clue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at livejournal August 2007.

Chad’s sprawled out all over the worn couch in Jared’s trailer like he owns it. Jensen pauses in the doorway, lunch in hand. “Where’s Jared?”

Chad shrugs, not looking up from his book. “Had to go meet the director about something. Said he wouldn’t be long.” 

He moves his feet off the couch so Jensen can sit down, but the old, sagging piece of furniture caves in the middle and they wind up pressed shoulder-to-shoulder. Jensen can feel the warmth of Chad’s arm against his even through the layers he has to wear as Dean, but he figures it’s because he’s still chilled from being outside in the incredibly inconsiderate Vancouver weather.

The heater comes on with a click and a hum, blowing warm air at about ankle level.

Jensen starts on his lunch; Chad reads quietly and drums his fingers on his thigh. There’s music coming from the laptop on the desk - something bluesy and instrumental, all butter-smooth bass and brassy high tones, definitely not Jared’s choice. Jensen tips his head and listens between bites, caught.

Chad sighs and shifts position as he turns the page, rolling his shoulders and making something in his spine pop. Jensen looks down at his container of food and realises it’s almost empty.

“Holy shit,” he remarks.

Chad looks up. “Huh?”

“Dude, I eat so much faster when Jared’s not around to distract me.” He fights off a blush when he realises how stupid that sounds; it’s not like he cares what Chad thinks.

But Chad laughs out loud, letting his book fall shut and holding his place with one finger. “Chewing with his mouth open, right?”

“And eating off my plate,” Jensen grumbles.

“And, hey, just talking. Pay attention to me, Chad! Chad, look at this! I have the attention span of a five-year-old!”

Jensen snickers. “And the way he grabs at you, you know.” He mimes grabbing somebody in a stranglehold. “He’s like a freaking limpet.”

Chad’s smile flickers for just a second into something vaguely rueful. “He hasn’t changed that much, huh?”

For a moment, Jensen considers telling him that he really has, he’s grown up a lot and really come into himself as an actor and a person. Then he remembers how last week Jared somehow dubbed the soundtrack of a gay porn movie into everybody’s headphones during the shooting of a particularly emotional brotherly-moment scene. “Guess not,” he says, and they grin at each other.

The door flies open, and Jensen winces, partly from the cold, but partly because Jared’s going to break his door again if he keeps that up. Jared fills the doorway, head brushing the top frame and shoulders butting against the sides, but the icy wind whistles in nevertheless, dispelling the cosy warmth.

“Dude, shut the door!” Chad yelps, and Jensen throws a pillow at him.

“Am I upsetting your delicate constitution, princess?” laughs Jared, and kicks the door shut. He frowns. “Princesses. The pair of you.”

Jensen swallows down his last fry and smirks. “You love us,” he says, and Chad laughs.

~

Jensen really starts to warm up to him almost a week into Chad’s my-last-breakup-ended-badly-and-I-needed-to-flee-the-country visit.

He arrives in Jared’s kitchen just after seven in the morning, unusually late for them to start, but it’s all daytime shooting this week and they’re ahead of schedule so they get a couple of extra hours sleep. Chad’s sitting there in his running gear, long legs kicked out under the table, drinking coffee and looking way too alert for this hour.

“Going running?” Jensen asks, reaching up to the overhead cabinets where Jared keeps the mugs.

“Been. Don’t open that!” he says sharply, and Jensen jumps, hand hovering over door handle.

“Why… not?” Don’t startle the crazy man.

Chad grins. “Got a little good morning present for Jared in there. Clean cups on the drying board.”

Jensen makes himself coffee and sits down opposite Chad, stretching out his legs so his ankle bumps against Chad’s. They talk absently about Chad’s running – yes, he goes most mornings – and Jensen’s need to get in shape. He somehow ends up agreeing to go running with Chad a couple of mornings next week.

“Don’t worry,” Chad smirks. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Jensen throws a spoon at him.

Jared comes shuffling into the kitchen with his hair all standing up and reddened crease marks pressed into his face, and reaches unsuspectingly for the cabinet door.

Jensen would swear Chad winks at him, but there’s a soft ‘whoomf’ and when Jared turns around his face and head are coated white with flour. So is half the kitchen.

“Morning, Jared!” says Chad cheerfully, and escapes to the bathroom while Jared’s still blinking in shock and Jensen’s falling out of his chair laughing.

~

I have to take my shirt off on camera in a few weeks, Jensen reminds himself. Millions of people are going to see my less-than-washboard abs, and this is actually really helpful, and it was good of Chad to offer, and he’s being surprisingly patient with me.

None of which changes the fact the Jensen is pushing thirty, and his knees are not thanking him for this sudden burst of activity. Chad sets a brutal pace, loping along with ridiculous ease through the icy morning air, not even having the decency to be out of breath. Huffing along behind him, Jensen feels old and out of shape.

Tucking his head down grimly, Jensen’s determined not to cry uncle. He can do this. He focuses his gaze on the back of Chad’s knees, flickering up and down steadily, and just keeps running.

Just when he thinks his lungs are going to stage a mutiny and his legs are threatening strike action, Chad calls stop at a park about a mile from Jared’s place. Jared takes the dogs there on weekends, so Jensen knows it a little. He collapses flat on his back on the frozen grass and waits for the burning in his chest to cease and the feeling to return to his extremities.

Chad drops a water bottle on his stomach. “Drink it slowly. And stretch some if you’re gonna sit down, dude, or you’ll freeze in place.”

Jensen takes small sips of icy water and bullies his aching limbs through a basic set of stretches. The frost on the grass begins to melt under his backside, uncomfortably.

Chad walks around, shaking his limbs out and watching thin morning sunlight illuminate the mist. It’s like being out in a ghost world, with the mist turning everything pale and the ice and frost catching the sunlight. It hasn’t snowed yet – “Too fuckin’ cold for snow,” Jared swears – but it’s cold enough that Jensen’s fingers went numb as soon as he stepped outside, his breath is steamy-visible, and he thinks his nose is running but can’t feel his face well enough to tell. The running has kept him warm at least; aside from his extremities. They’re the only ones around, the only ones crazy enough to get up at this stupid hour of the morning to put themselves through this ridiculousness. Jensen climbs awkwardly to his feet, wincing at the damp patch on the back of his pants. He pauses a moment, pleased when he doesn’t tip over sideways, despite his legs having turned into cooked noodles.

“Ready to go?” asks Chad brightly. Fucker’s bouncing lightly on his toes, swinging his arms, full of energy.

“It’s about a mile back to Jared’s, right?” says Jensen as they set off.

Chad laughs. “Yeah, but we’re taking the long way.”

Jensen’s barely got the breath to curse at him.

Jared’s made coffee when they get back into the warmth of his house, and Jensen holds it in both hands and cradles it close to his face, breathing in the steam, for about five minutes before he can even take a sip.

“We gotta be on set in an hour, Jenny-Bean,” Jared tells him, tucking a blanket around his shoulders like a fussy mother hen.

Jensen shakes his head. “Never moving again. Tell my momma I love her.”

Chad comes into the kitchen, his hair damp and skin ruddy from the hot shower, moving loose and easy.

“That bad?” says Jared, all sympathy.

Jensen wants to groan in pain, be pathetic, and let Jared coddle him some more. Jared’s all big and warm and weirdly nurturing, and Jensen knows he’d be good for sympathy and maybe even backrubs later on.

Chad raises an eyebrow, looking amused.

“Naw,” says Jensen, pushing Jared gently away and standing up. “Just a bit stiff. You’re a brutal taskmaster, Murray.”

He takes his coffee into the bathroom with him, and the hot shower really helps with the worst of the aching.

~

“It just made sense to me, you know?” says Chad, mashing frantically at the controller. “It was something I could do.”

“So it’s like a big deal for you?” says Jensen, elbowing Chad in the ribs during a particularly spectacular move. “I mean, you’ve never done anything?”

“No,” says Chad, and pauses to whoop in triumph as his car crosses the digitised finish line. Disgusted, Jensen hits pause and turns to look at Chad, who shrugs. “Back when I was modelling, it was pretty common, you know? Lot of models did. Maybe most. But I just never wanted to.”

“Huh,” says Jensen. A couple of weeks ago, he would never have pictured Chad Michael Murray as a model of restraint in any respect. “So, not even weed or anything?”  
Chad purses his lips primly. “Cannabis can trigger underlying mental health problems or worsen existing ones. It’s got all the health risks of normal cigarettes, and because there’s no quality control, it’s often tainted with extremely poisonous substances.”

Jensen blinks. “Um?”

Chad flashes him a grin and settles back on the couch, picking up his game controller. “No, not even weed.”

Jared drifts past the open doorway in the kitchen, talking softly into the cellphone cradled to his ear. When Jensen looks back, Chad’s restarted the game, and Jensen’s controller is nowhere to be seen. He yelps in protest and tackles Chad off the couch, and when Jared returns to the room, it’s to find the game stalled on the TV and his two best friends trying to grind each other’s faces into the carpet.

“He cheated!” Jensen howls, trying to pin Chad’s arms to his side.

“Princess can’t take the heat,” Chad shoots back, and shrieks as Jensen’s probing fingers connect with his ticklish ribs.

“Uh-huh,” says Jared, wandering forward until his shins hit the couch and he topples onto it, looking dazed.

The wrestling match stops, and Chad rolls off Jensen to peer up at Jared’s face. “You okay, dude?”

“Something wrong? Is Sandy okay?” asks Jensen, twisting around until he can sit up.

Jared rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s – she got a job. A good one, some comic-book movie.”

“That’s – good?” Chad guesses hesitantly. “Right?”

“She wants to take a break,” says Jared quietly. “She says she wants to focus on her career.”

There’s silence for a moment. “I’ll get the beer,” Chad says finally, and jumps up.

“Something with explosions,” agrees Jensen, shuffling on his knees over to the stack of DVDs on the floor by the game console.

Jared makes a sort of choked noise, and they pause, turning back.

“Jared?” says Jensen cautiously. “You okay?”

He lifts his head. His eyes are wet, but he’s smiling kind of crazily. “You guys are the best. I love you, you know that?

“We know,” they chorus, and Jared laughs helplessly.

~

“I could stay,” Chad offers again, despite the fact that he’s already checked his luggage and has once again absentmindedly put his boarding pass down and forgotten it. Jensen picks up the ticket from the window ledge and sticks it in the breast pocket of Chad’s shirt.

“No,” says Jared, looking regretful. “Your manager’s already leaving nasty messages on my machine for keeping you here so long. Any longer and she’s gonna do something desperate, like actually fly up here her own self to retrieve you.”

“She’s dedicated, I’ll give her that.” Chad shrugs. “Well, as holidays go, putting up with you two didn’t suck too bad.”

“Aww. Thanks, princess,” says Jensen, and ruffles his hair. Chad ducks away, grinning, as Jared sniffles theatrically and wipes away an imaginary tear.

“You guys coming down to LA soon, right?” asks Chad as Jared sweeps him into ones of those all-encompassing, full-bodied hugs. He squeaks helplessly as Jared’s monkey arms squeeze his ribcage.

“Soon,” says Jensen, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Next weekend, if we can swing it. If not, hiatus is coming up.”

Chad flails at Jared. “Leggo. Geroff. That’s awesome. So I’ll be seeing you guys soon.”

“Yeah,” says Jensen, and Chad’s standing right there, looking uncomfortable, and Jared just hugged Chad, but they’ve known each other for years, and Jensen’s not a big hugger. And this, wow, this is kind of awkward. He pulls his hands out of his pockets, and then he thinks Jared must have pushed Chad or something, because suddenly he’s got an armful.

Chad hands land at his waist like he’s trying to steady himself, and Jensen gets one arm around his shoulders by instinct. They’re almost exactly the same height, and Chad’s stubbly cheek scrapes briefly against his ear as their chests press firmly together. Jensen notices, not for the first time, how warm Chad is, giving off heat like a person-shaped furnace.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he says into Chad’s ear, and squeezes firmly before letting go.

They wave Chad through the gate like proud parents sending off their firstborn, and it’s only after he’s gone from sight that Jared turns to Jensen and says “Do you think he’ll like the present I hid in his luggage?”

Jensen takes one look at Jared’s face and groans. “Oh, no.”

Jared smiles beatifically. “It’s about twelve inches long, bright purple, and runs on AA batteries.”

“You went out and bought a – sex toy, just to hide in his luggage?” Jensen doesn’t want to believe it, and he’s relieved when Jared snickers.

“Nah.” Beat. “It was one Sandy left behind.”

~

In retaliation for the dildo prank, Chad emails Jensen footage of an outtake from Jared’s days on Gilmore Girls. Come the weekend, the whole set has seen the clip of skinny, adolescent Jared accidentally headbutting Alexis in the nose while going in for a kiss.

“How do you even do that?” Jensen cackles, turning his head when Shannon pokes him. “She’s like, four feet tall! How did you get your forehead down that far?”

Jared scowls. “I hate you. I’m gonna get even.”

Jensen raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, man. It was all Chad. I am merely a pawn.”

“We’re supposed to be partners,” sulks Jared, looking betrayed, which just makes Jensen laugh harder.

He regrets it a little, later on, when he can’t open any of the cabinets in his trailer and there’s an empty tube of superglue sitting on the countertop. A-ha, he thinks morosely, a Clue.

He scowls at it, then pulls out his cellphone.

~

Jensen’s not quite sure when the emails and phone calls between he and Chad turned from plotting Jared’s downfall by means of superglue and fart noises into something else.

It’s ridiculously late at night – maybe ten o’clock or so, but he’s been going, like the energiser bunny, since before dawn – and he’s sitting in his director’s chair, slumped down, with his phone pressed to his ear listening to Chad talk about his ex, his show, his upcoming audition for a movie, the bad food he had the other night, some crazy fan. He stops for breath.

“Yeah?’ says Jensen. “So what was that like?”

Chad launches into the story of how some chick (“Can’t have been older than sixteen, man, it was creepy.” “Really?” Jensen snarks. “I thought you liked ‘em young”) had come up and begged for his autograph. Upon receiving said autograph, the girl had proceeded to follow Chad around, finally yanking off her shirt and throwing herself half-naked at him.

“And it was like, they were just swinging around, you know? Right out there.” Jensen laughs, but Chad makes a rueful noise. “And I just, I don’t want to see that.”

“No?” Jensen teases. “What are you, gay?” He expects a laugh, or for Chad to make a rude noise and barrel on with his story, but there’s nothing but silence from the other end of the line.

Oh, crap.

“Chad?” he says gently. “I didn’t mean – Christ. It’s okay if you are, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I have to go,” says Chad, very fast, and the line cuts out.

Jensen stares at his phone in astonishment for a moment, but before he can call Chad back, Kim calls for his attention and he has to go and do his job.

~

“You talked to Chad recently?” Jensen’s trying for casual. Chad’s not answering his calls, and okay, it’s only been a day since Chad’s little freakout, but Jensen’s worried.

Jared looks wary. “What are you guys planning?”

“What? Nothing. Nothing. Have you heard from him?”

Jared shrugs and bends back over the pool table, lining up his shot. Jensen watches the line of his back, the way his shirt rides up. “Yeah, I talked to him about a week ago. He seemed fine. Why?”

Jensen blinks. A week ago? He’s talked to Chad three times since then, and emailed him at least once. It had never occurred to him that Chad wasn’t maintaining the same kind of communication with Jared, his best friend.

“Oh, nothing,” he says weakly. “Just. Wondering.”

~

Jensen hates L.A. on principle. He hates the fakeness of it, the glamour and shine hiding all the selfishness and abuse underneath. Nice place to visit, he thinks. Stay long enough to appreciate the pretty surface, but hang around and you’ll start to smell of it.

Or something. He’s not much of a metaphor kind of guy. But L.A. is a rough town, rough on people’s live and self-esteem and morals. Jensen knows he was lucky. He’s pretty enough, always has been, to catch people’s eye, which in this town, takes a lot of the edge off. And he had good fortune early on and worked hard and he was lucky. But thousands aren’t. Model-pretty girls behind the counter of every store, Adonis-like boys waiting tables in every fabulous restaurant. They’re waiting for their shot, and Jensen knows that most of them will grow old and die with waiting in this stupid city, this insane business. He loves acting, and he loves his job, but he hates the industry that eats people’s lives. It’s bullshit.

But he likes the sunshine, the bright light and warmth after Vancouver’s chill. He likes the pretty people everywhere, and being barely famous enough to rate a second glance when Tom Cruise could wander by at any moment. He likes it because being here means he’s not filming and can probably sleep in tomorrow.

He stays away from the industry areas of town when he’s ‘home’ – he’s got a little two-bedroom house in a quiet corner of the city, not Hollywood but near enough. On his rare days off in L.A., he putters quietly around, wiping dust off things and pondering his fridge and the mysterious jar of mayonnaise he’s sure he throws out every time he’s here.

The big bay windows in the living room look out onto his tiny, overgrown backyard. The walls are faded yellow and the carpet is worn, but despite the stripped, threadbare feel of the room, it’s comfortable and pleasantly quiet. Once the house is passably clean and looks less like one of the creepy sets they might film on, Jensen lies on his couch – comfortable, sagging couch he’s had since he moved here nearly ten years ago – and watches the tree branches scrape against the glass, the shadow-patterns the leaves paint across the floor. There’s a cold beer on the table, but he’s only taken a sip because it’s too far away to reach from this angle.

The TV in the corner gave up and died last time he was back here, but he hasn’t yet bothered himself to replace it. His main entertainment is a big pine bookcase that takes up nearly an entire wall. It’s stacked, because every time he goes shopping he buys a book. One day, he promises himself, he’s going to take a long holiday and read all the ones he’s never had time to. But he’s tired now.

His phone buzzes irritatingly against the table. With a groan, Jensen stretches and grabs it so he can peer at the display screen.

Chad m  
In his haste to answer, he almost accidentally hits the disconnect button. “Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence. “Hey, Jensen.”

“Chad. Man, how’ve you been?” Jensen sits up and rests his elbows on his knees. “Haven’t heard from in a while.”

“Yeah.” He can hear Chad breathing. “About that.”

“It’s fine,” Jensen says quickly. “Really. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“No, I just – I wanted to explain.” His voice is so quiet Jensen has to strain to hear him, but when he sighs, it’s clear and noisy.

Jensen rubs his forehead. “I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.”

More breathing noises. “Are you busy right now?” says Chad. “I thought, maybe. If you wanted.”

“I’m at home. Come on over, if you want. Though I warn you, I have no food in the place.”

“I’ll pick something up on my way,” says Chad, sounding relieved. Jensen gives him the address and hangs up with a brief “See you soon.”

Jensen wanders around his house, but it’s tidy and empty and mostly unlived-in. The living room, with its comfy couch, crowded bookcase and state-of-the-art stereo system, is the most homely room in the place, so he makes sure there’s beer in the fridge and settles down in much the same position he’d been before Chad called.

He’s dozing lightly when the doorbell rings, and he has to wipe drool from the corner of his mouth and surreptitiously straighten his underwear before he answers it.

Chad’s got a new haircut, expensive sunglasses and a couple of pizzas. He smiles wanly. “Hope you like olives.”

“I hate olives. Come in.” He stands back so Chad can get by, warm and clean-smelling. His short hair is slightly damp, like he showered before he came over.

Jensen grabs beer and paper towels from the kitchen and they get set up in the living room. He picks the olives off his pizza and throws them one by one at Chad, who collects them all into a little pile and makes a smiley face with them, and they eat in comfortable silence. Jensen pretends not to notice the way Chad keeps giving him these quick, assessing looks, like he’s trying to gauge Jensen’s mood.

“So,” says Jensen over the empty boxes.

Chad looks at him then looks away fast. “I don’t,” he says in a small, uncertain voice. “I didn’t mean to freak out.”

Jensen bumps his shoulder gently. “I get it, man. Not a big deal.”

Chad carefully rearranges the olives into a frowny-face. “It’s not,” he agrees. “It’s just – not anything.”

Jensen feels himself nod. “Sure thing. Whatever you say.” He takes a pull of his beer.

“It’s not that important, right?” says Chad, and he sound anxious, looking at Jensen and holding his gaze for the first time since walking in. He’s rubbing his hands against his thighs nervously, grease from the pizza leaving dark streaks on the worn denim.

“It’s okay,” says Jensen firmly.

Chad slumps and wipes a hand across his face. “You know what the stupid thing is?” At Jensen’s curious eyebrow, he continues. “I’m not. Gay, I mean. I like chicks. Hell, I’ve married chicks. But just. Sometimes,” he finishes, looking a bit lost.

Jensen snorts. “Believe me, that I understand.” And when Chad looks at him, he shrugs. “Sometimes, a guy just pushes all the right buttons, yeah?”

“Exactly.” Chad looks not quite relieved, but less like he’s in any kind of pain from embarrassment or shame. “You too?”

Jensen shrugs. “Yeah. Sometimes.” He takes a pull of beer, licks his lips, unwilling to offer any details. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, you know? Nobody has to know. It can just be… something you do sometimes.”

Chad scratches the back of his neck and looks sheepish. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “I guess I maybe overreacted.”

Jensen smirks and gives him a gentle shove. “Just a bit. Gotta be smoother than that, boy.”

Chad scowls and shoves him back. “Don’t call me boy, asswipe.”

~

When Jared calls, Jensen is tidying pizza boxes and Chad is stretched out on the floor, trawling the bottom shelf of the bookcase. He’d poked briefly at the TV, and had been loudly disgusted to discover it didn’t work, but Jensen’s eclectic library had sufficiently distracted him.

“Winchester Funeral Home,” Jensen answers the phone in his best cheery secretary voice.

Jared snickers. “I thought it was ‘City morgue’ this week?” he says by way of greeting.

“Special new one for you,” says Jensen vaguely, tucking the phone against his shoulder to cram pizza boxes in the recycling. “’S goin’ on?”

“Bored. What did I used to do before I had a girlfriend to entertain every weekend?” He sounds vaguely sad, but before Jensen can formulate sympathy, Jared goes on. “An’ I tried calling Chad, but his phone’s off. Bastard.”

“He’s here,” says Jensen before he can think about it. There’s a quiet moment, while he mentally slaps himself in the head. “I mean, he came over. We’re talking. I guess that’s why he’s not answering.”

“You’re talking.” Jared sounds dubious, but he’s not suspicious by nature. Jensen suspects he fears more pranks. “That’s, uh. Good. You guys are friends now?”

There’s a crash and a splintering noise from the living room, and Jensen pulls the phone away from his ear. “You break my stuff, Murray, I’ll break your damn face!”

Pause. “Sorry!” Chad yells. “I can fix that, I swear!”

Jared’s laughing when Jensen returns to the conversation. “What the hell is going on over there, man?”

Jensen can’t help but laugh back. “Your boy Chad figured out my TV doesn’t work and he’s so bored I swear he’s humping the furniture or some shit.”

Chad appears in the kitchen doorway, scowling. “I heard that.” He holds out his hand, snapping his fingers. “’Zat Jared? Gimme the phone, man, I gotta talk to him.”

“Try answering your own phone occasionally!” Jared yells, loud enough to make Jensen wince and throw the phone at Chad to protect his eardrums.

They end up at Chad’s place, with the monster home theatre, a couple of six-packs of beer and approximately twenty-eight dogs who all love Jared so much they pin him to the ground as soon as he arrives and lick him enthusiastically until Chad pulls them away and shuts them in the spare room.

“They must smell mine on me,” says Jared, grabbing Jensen’s proffered hand and hauling himself up. He uses the momentum to nearly topple Jensen over with a hug, slinging an arm around his neck and draping himself over Jensen’s shoulders. 

Jensen pokes him in the ribs. “Get off, man, you saw me yesterday.”

“I missed you,” protests Jared, but pulls away to launch himself at Chad.

Chad takes the hugging with good grace, bearing up under Jared insistent chatter and hair-ruffling. “We’re plotting your downfall,” he says in response to Jared’s query about what he was doing at Jensen’s, of all places. “Naked and painted with woad at the Emmy’s. Totally happening.”

Jared laughs, big and wide, clapping Chad on the back. “Sure, man. Got any chips?”

They end up crashed out on the couch, shoulder-to-shoulder with Jared in the middle like a buffer. One of the Die Hard movies plays on Chad’s outrageously huge flat-screen (“I am not compensating for anything, shut up Jared!”) but the huge shiny phallic speakers are silent as they all take turns in narrating the action and ad-libbing the dialogue onscreen. By the end of the movie, Jared is sprawled out on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, giggling into the carpet as Jensen and Chad exchange fondly amused looks.

It’s a good afternoon.

Jensen is lying on Jared’s living room floor when Chad calls, with his back on the carpet and his legs on the couch. His physio says it’s good for his back, but it’s making all the blood rush to his head and his toes have gone numb.

Jared pats his ankle. “How’s the view from down there?”

Jensen lifts a hand and wobbles it around. “You have water damage on your ceiling.” His phone rings. “Pass me that?”

Jared retrieves the phone from the end table and drops it by his head. Jensen glances at the screen and answers. “Yo.”

“Hey, man.” Chad sounds tired. “What’s going on?”

“On my back with my legs in the air,” replies Jensen truthfully. Chad snorts. “You?”

“Spent all morning with my lawyer,” he replies, and the tiredness makes sense. “Got all my divorce shit finalised. I’m a free man as of, like, two o’clock this afternoon.”

Jensen’s not quite sure what to say to that. “Oh. Um, congratulations? Is that the right thing to say?” Jared is making ‘what’s going on?’ faces at him, but Jensen waves him off.

Chad laughs nervously. “Yeah. So I was thinking, do you want to do something tonight? If you’re not busy.” He sounds unaccountably hesitant, considering that for the last three days in a row he’s shown up unannounced at Jensen or Jared’s place and dragged them out for whatever activities he had planned.

“Sure thing. What did you have in mind?” Jared throws a cushion at him. He flips him the bird. “Hang on a second. I’m at Jared’s. Lemme see what he wants to do.” He pulls the phone away from his mouth. “Chad’s divorce just got finalised. Wanna celebrate?”

Jared immediately leans over and grabs the phone off him. “Dude, that’s awesome!” he crows, and pauses to listen. “Mm-hm. Mm-hm. With a what? Oh, okay. So, steak?” Another pause. “Okay. No problem.” 

He tosses the phone back to Jensen. “I guess we’re going for steak,” he says.

“Guess so.” Chad sounds subdued.

“You okay?” asks Jensen, and could kick himself for it. Chad’s just gotten divorced, he’s got good reason to be not okay.

“Fine,” says Chad after a minute. “See you later on tonight?”

“See you,” says Jensen, and hears the dial tone.

~

The parking lot of some crappy little hole-in-the-wall bar was totally not the place for Jared to have some giant freakout about his precious truck. And yet, he does anyway.

“’S my truck,” he says clearly, leaning against the vehicle in question with what Jensen considers to be an unhealthy amount of affection. “An’ I’m the only one gets to drive it.”

Jensen folded his arms. “Gimme the damned keys, Jared. You’re drunk.”

Jared glared. “No ‘m not.”

Chad comes up behind Jensen and kind of leans on him, grabbing his shoulder for support. “You’re tipping over sideways,” he tells Jared. “Or is that me?”

Jensen sighs and snatches the keys from Jared, who is too busy stroking the paint job to stop him. “Both of you in the car.”

“I wanna drive,” grumbles Jared, climbing into the backseat and trying to stretch out.

“Next time, think of that before you nominate me designated driver,” Jensen advises him. He checks to make sure Chad is all buckled up in the front seat, and pulls out of the parking lot.

Jared singing quietly to himself in the backseat, in his own little world, and Chad is quiet, pensive. “You okay?” Jensen asks as they drive. 

Chad shoots him a startled look. “What? Yeah. Yeah. Just got some things on my mind.” He’d matched Jared shot-for-shot all evening, but his words are unslurred and his eyes clear.

“Divorce shit?’ Jensen asks sympathetically.

Chad shugs. “Not really. Other stuff.” He drums his fingers against his thigh, looks out the window, glance over his shoulder at Jared, drooling on the upholstery. “Do you ever – I mean, with guys. It’s different to girls, right?”

Jensen turns that somewhat garbled question over in his head for a while, examining it. “You mean sex, or dating, or – what, Chad? Give me something to work with.”

Chad sighs noisily. “Dating, I guess. Sex. Whatever. It’s like, with girls, you can just ask ‘em out. They say yes, or no, whatever. Different with guys.” He tips his head and sneaks another quick look at Jared, checking again that he’s sleeping.

Jensen hits the brakes a little too heavy as they approach a red light, jolting them forward in their seats. “Dude, please tell me it’s not Jared.”

Chad blinks slowly at him. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he says at last.

They both crane their necks and look around. Jared is blissfully passed out on the backseat with his mouth open, bright pink shirt unbuttoned at the throat. The streetlights wash his skin colour pale and sick-looking. He looks like a little kid.

The car behind them honks to indicate that the lights have changed, and Jensen snaps his attention back to the road.

“No,” says Chad, sounding definite. “Not Jared.”

Jensen taps the steering wheel. “Don’t know how much help I can be, man. Not like there’s a secret handshake or anything to get you into the club.”

“Do you date? Guys, I mean?” Chad sounds casual about it.

Jensen shrugs, aiming for equally casual. “Not normally. With the whole… publicity thing and all. It’s usually easier to keep things casual.”

“Oh.” Chad seems to find to this information tremendously important, because he sits back in his seat, looking pensive.

They pull up outside of Jared’s apartment building, and Jensen parks the truck and reaches over the seat to shove Jared into a state somewhat resembling wakefulness. “We’re here, man.”

He gets out, opening the door nearest Jared’s feet and yanking him out. Chad stays where he is. “You coming?” asks Jensen, bent in half under Jared’s weight.

Chad bites his lip. “I kinda want to just go home,” he says sheepishly, and Jensen rolls his eyes.

“Okay. Let me put bigfoot to bed and I’ll drive you.”

He half-shoves, half-carries Jared inside and into the elevator, where he props him up against the mirrored wall. By the time the doors open with a chime, Jared’s woken up enough to amble down the corridor to his front door with only a little prodding, so Jensen leaves him puzzling over the concept of ‘key’ in relation to the idea of ‘lock’ and heads back downstairs. He figures he’ll drive Chad home and then take Jared’s truck back to his place.

Chad is dozing lightly, head against the window, but he stirs when Jensen opens the driver-side door. “Jared okay?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Jensen starts the engine. “You’d think a guy that big could hold his liquor better.”

Chad goes ‘heh,’ and kind of drifts off again. Jensen curses himself for being a total pushover and not kicking Chad out with Jared, but he figures Chad’s having his big gay freakout and as possibly the only guy Chad knows who’s willing to talk about it, the least Jensen can do is drive him home and let him talk.

Chad, however, seems perfectly content to let the silence stretch out between them. The passing streetlights flicker over his face, making his eyes flash.

It’s been a long evening. First dinner at the steakhouse, from which they had all emerged groaningly full, and then a series of bars and clubs, interspersed with valiant attempts to stop Jared from dancing on tables. Chad had been strangely quiet the whole night – not unhappy, just a little more withdrawn and watchful.

Like he is now, leaning against the window and sighing every once in a while like a great big girl. Jensen gives a little growl and pulls the truck over, puts the handbrake on, and lets the engine idle. “Okay, spill.”

Chad looks startled, glancing around the quiet suburban street. “What?”

“Whatever it is making you act like somebody kicked your damned dog.” Jensen twists in the seat, turns his body so he can look at Chad properly. “Tell me what’s going on with you, man.”

Chad’s eyes go really wide, like Jensen’s said something embarrassing. A little voice in the back of Jensen’s head starts jumping up and down, trying to get his attention, but he ignores it. 

Chad swallows. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

“Bullshit,” says Jensen, mad suddenly for no reason. “You call me up and ask to hang out, and then you spend the whole night fucking moping. What gives?”

In the faint light, Chad goes very red, and he mumbles something inaudible.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” says Jensen. “What?”

“I said,” snaps Chad, “I wanted to go out with you. Not you and Jared. Just you. Okay?” He folds his arms and looks out the window. “Now, if you’ve finished humiliating me, do you think you could just drive me home and never talk about this ever again?”

Jensen’s mouth goes dry and a lot of things suddenly start to make sense. “You wanted to go out with me?” he asks, dumbfounded.

Chad slumps further down in his seat. He looks like he might cry from embarrassment. “Fuck off.”

Jensen reaches out and touches his fingertips to Chad’s neck, just above the collar of his black, button-down shirt. Chad shivers slightly. “You wanted to go out with me?” Jensen asks again, and slides across the bench seat to get closer.

Chad turns his head and looks at Jensen. “Don’t, Jensen. Don’t fuck with me, that’s not fair.” He pulls away, pressing himself awkwardly against the door. “Stop it.”

Jensen touches him again, just his hand on Chad’s jaw. “I’m not fucking with you.” Chad jerks his eyes up to meet Jensen’s gaze. “I swear I didn’t know, Chad.” And he hadn’t, he’d had no idea that Chad had even thought about it, but now the idea seems like the best thing ever.

Chad hasn’t moved, just watches Jensen come closer, eyes wide and nervous. If Jensen wasn’t sure before, he’s now pretty well convinced that Chad has never done this before, and that thought makes something in his chest ache. “It’s okay,” he says soothingly, and lets his hand move down to press against Chad’s chest, thumb rubbing back and forth. Their legs are pressed together now, Chad’s knee digging into Jensen’s thigh from the way he’s kind of twisted up on the seat.

Chad breathes out and his shoulders relax as Jensen leans in, and their mouths touch together, very light but quite deliberate. Chad makes a soft noise and reaches out to fist a hand in Jensen’s shirt. There’s a frozen moment where they stay like that, awkward in the dark car, lips pressed together like little kids who don’t know what to do next.

And then Chad tilts his head and his lips part and they’re kissing, really kissing, slick and hot and Chad makes this noise, low in his throat like he’s in pain. His hands come up to frame Jensen’s face gently, and it’s so unexpectedly sweet that Jensen feels warm all over.

Remembering that Chad is scrunched up against the window in what must be a very uncomfortable position, Jensen pulls away a little, and is gratified when Chad seems reluctant to break the contact, chasing after Jensen’s mouth with a needy noise. Jensen huffs a little laugh against Chad’s mouth and tugs him gently so he’s not so squashed. Chad ends up straddling Jensen’s lap, their chests pressed together, faces inches apart.

They stare at each other. Chad’s eyes are gleaming strangely in the dimness. “You okay?” Jensen asks.

Chad breathes out shakily, and it washes over Jensen’s face, smelling of beer. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.” His hands slide up into Jensen’s hair, playing with short strands. “God.”

They press their foreheads together and breathe each other’s air for a little while. Jensen brushes his lips over Chad’s lightly, once, twice, trying to ignore the insistent erection that had presented itself at the first touch of Chad’s mouth. “You wanna get out of here?” he murmurs, and flicks his tongue out along Chad’s lower lip.

Chad groans. “Yeah. No. Jesus, Jensen.” He squirms slightly, kisses Jensen’s mouth again, brief and messy. “God. I want – could you -” He shifts uncomfortably, and Jensen feels Chad’s erection press against his belly.

A clue, he thinks, and reaches down to press his fingertips against Chad’s thigh, sliding along the inseam. “Yeah?” he murmurs, and lays his palm over Chad’s groin, presses down.

Chad drops his head against Jensen’s shoulder, his chest moving in quick, jerky breaths. “Oh,” he says in a small voice, and his hips give a little jerk, pushing up into Jensen’s hand. “Oh, yeah.”

“You like that?” croons Jensen. “Yeah? Okay. Just let me,” and he stops rubbing Chad through his pants long enough the open the button and struggle the zipper down. There’s no way he’s going to get them off, with Chad straddling him like he is, so he just shoves his hand inside.

Chad’s not wearing any underwear. Jensen takes a moment to appreciate that before he curls his fingers around Chad’s dick, hard and hot in the damp space inside his jeans, and feels the full-body shiver run through him.

“God,” says Chad, and his hips start to move, pushing himself into Jensen’s loose fist. “Oh, God, yeah. Jensen.” His fingers dig in, one curled around the back of Jensen’s head, the other on his bicep, squeezing and flexing.

Jensen turns his head, kisses Chad’s neck, his ear, jerks him off slow and awkward. His hand is sticky with precome and cramping up from the close quarters, but Chad is writhing above him now, making these soft, choked noises, and his hips are pumping steadily. Every movement Chad makes has him grinding down on Jensen’s aching dick, and Jensen finds himself spiralling higher and higher, every nerve raw.

“Jensen,” says Chad, and turns to kiss him, messily. Jensen twists his wrist and chases Chad’s tongue, licking into his mouth. Chad makes a muffled noise and shoves his hips up so his dick slides through Jensen’s grip, movements growing frantic.

Chad’s whole body tenses up and he groans as he comes, spilling into Jensen’s hand. Jensen strokes him through it, one hand running up and down Chad’s back where sweat has dampened his shirt, and lets Chad sag against him, panting. He tries to ignore the pressure in his own crotch. “Okay?” he asks, once Chad’s breathing has evened out some.

Chad tucks his face against Jensen’s neck, breath ghosting along his skin. “Fuck.” His voice sounds utterly wrecked. “Oh, man.” He lifts his head and looks at Jensen with bleary eyes, letting his fingers drift over Jensen’s chest, down his belly, toying with the hem of his shirt. His face creases, something like confusion, maybe. “You didn’t, uh,”

Jensen touches his lips to the side of Chad’s face. “No. But it’s okay.”

“Hmm,” say Chad and slides sideway off Jensen. “Not cool.” He fumbles at Jensen’s fly, the movement stimulating Jensen’s aching dick to the point of embarrassment.

“You don’t have to,” says Jensen, then shuts up fast because Chad is tugging at his jeans, pulling them away and staring at the bulge in Jensen’s shorts like it’s some fascinating new species. Jensen wants to tell him again that it’s okay, that there’s no pressure if he doesn’t want to do anything.

But Chad goes, “Huh,” and leans down to press his open mouth against the head of Jensen’s cock, where pre-come is soaking through the thin fabric of his underwear. It’s hot and unexpected and Jensen makes a strangled noise and moves helplessly, rocking his hips up. Chad’s makes a soft, curious noise, tips his head, and manages to get just the head of Jensen’s cock in his mouth through bunches of fabric, and Jensen’s orgasm hits him out of nowhere, blindsiding him and leaving him gasping.

Chad kisses him as he comes down off the high; just little light kisses against his mouth and cheeks that Jensen’s too strung out to return. He concentrates instead on the solid feel of Chad pressed against his side, the damp, cooling mess smeared inside his boxers, the frantic rhythm of his own heartbeat.

“Oh my God,” says Chad, sound slightly awed, his mouth still pressed to Jensen’s cheekbone. “Jared’s going to fucking kill us.”

For a moment, Jensen’s brain can only go Why the hell is he talking about Jared right now? Then he looks around, and they’re in Jared’s precious truck in some anonymous suburban street with the windows all fogged up.

Jensen gives a shaky laugh. “I really don’t care.”

~

The shrill noise of his cellphone intrudes on Jensen’s sleep, and he groans, sticking out an arm and flailing blindly in the direction of his nightstand. His groping hand hits nothing but air before descending on something warm and soft. Somebody warm and soft.

Chad looks like a disgruntled possum when his head appears. “Dude.” He squints at Jensen, and his eyes go wide. “Dude.”

The irritating noise of the phone stops, unanswered, and the silence is deafening. Jensen takes stock: he’s in an unfamiliar room, presumably Chad’s. An unfamiliar bed, ditto. Apparently clothed – or at least, still in boxers and a t-shirt. Chad lying beside him, close enough their legs are tangled, looking sleepily surprised.

“Chad” says Jensen carefully. “Are you – uh.”

Chad looks blankly at him for a second, then buries his face in the pillow. “Oh, god.”

Jensen tries not to be too disappointed. It’s not like he wasn’t at least half-expecting a big gay freakout at some point. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll go, don’t worry.”

Chad’s head snaps up. “What? No, don’t – seriously, what?”

Jensen stops, one leg sticking out from under the blankets, and looks back. “You don’t want me to leave?”

Chad looks confused. “No?” He sits up in the bed, the blankets falling away. He’s bare-chested and there are red marks on his neck, where Jensen distinctly remembers gnawing on him. Last night. In Jared’s truck. Jensen watches Chad scratch nervously at the stubble coming through on his jaw. “Look,” says Chad. “You may have guessed that I’ve never done this before.”

Jensen crawls back under the covers. “It crossed my mind.”

Chad looks briefly mortified. “Was I – I mean.” He swallows. “Anyway. So. I have no idea what to do now.”

Jensen nods. “What do you want to do?” he asks quietly.

Chad bites his lip. “Um. Well, last night was.” He lowers his eyes, looks up shyly through his lashes, and Jensen finds himself grinning.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and stretches against the bed, toes curling against the sheets. “It was.”

Chad leans over and Jensen tips his face up, and they kiss like that, clear pale light from the window and clean sheets, morning breath and the scrape of stubble. Chad comes down, down until he’s draped over Jensen, all that long lean muscle pressed against him, and Jensen touches his warm skin.

They strip each other, and when Chad is naked, Jensen wonders why it never occurred to him to want this. Chad is gorgeous, all long legs and wiry muscle, hot and shaking, and he looks at Jensen like Jensen just invented sex and Chad wants a piece of it.

He wants to take his time, to touch Chad everywhere and find out what he likes, what’s good for him, but he’s pretty sure from the noises Chad is making that he won’t last long, so he fits their hips together and moves, feeling the slide of their bodies together, their dicks trapped and rubbing between them. He runs his hands over Chad’s skin, pinches a nipple to watch him squirm, kisses his mouth, rounded with shocked pleasure.

Chad comes with a sigh, like a great load has been lifted off his shoulders. He relaxes, his expression becoming sleepy and half-focused as he watches Jensen’s face, touching his cheeks and nose and Jensen slides his dick in the groove of Chad’s hip and comes all over him.

The bed is warm with sunlight and sleep, and Chad is still beneath him. Jensen rests his head on Chad’s shoulder and runs his fingers over the skin of Chad’s hips. “Okay?” he says at length. He seems to be asking that a lot around Chad recently.

“Mm.” Chad touches his hair and takes a deep breath. “Fuckin’ okay. Bullshit.”

Jensen snickers. “Stupid question.”

“Awesome,” says Chad. “I’m fuckin’ awesome.”

~

“Where the hell is my truck, man? What happened last night?” Jared sounds irritated, the way he only really gets when he’s hungover and the world is too bright and loud even for him.

Jensen swings his legs over the side of the bed. The bathroom door is open, and Chad is cleaning his teeth at the sink. Jensen digs his toes into the soft carpet. “I drove you home and crashed at Chad’s,” he says. “We had sex in your truck. Sorry.”

Chad spits toothpaste all over the mirror. Jared laughs, clearly disbelieving him. “You’re all class, Ackles. I can’t believe you put up with Chad’s couch, that thing is the most uncomfortable place I’ve ever slept.”

“Yeah,” says Jensen, and gets up to go into the bathroom, nudging up behind Chad and pressing him against the counter. “It’s a killer. I think I put my back out.”

Chad looks at him in the mirror, suspiciously. Jensen winks.

“I’ll stop by your place in about an hour, okay?” he says into the phone, because he’s still got to take a shower, and Chad’s bathroom is really nice.

“If you’ve messed up my truck,” Jared grumbles threateningly. “Bring breakfast. And Chad.”

“Sure,” says Jensen, and hangs up, drops his mouth to Chad’s neck. “Jared wants breakfast.”

“You need a shower,” replies Chad, tilting his head back.

“There’s a shower right there,” notes Jensen. “Lucky me.”

Chad grins and turns, pushing him back towards the glass-walled shower recess. “Lucky, lucky you.”


End file.
